a very strange night
by funtime vash
Summary: Batman and Catwoman are one of the best couples ever created. Take a look at this rather randy short work.


I don't own Batman, or Catwoman. I'm just a fangirl, that is all.  
  
Selena heard his gentle padding footsteps as he crossed the roof to stand behind her.  
  
"Now what do you want," she grumbled. She pulled at the cigar languidly, letting the smoke fill her mouth and escape in sensuous wisps. Selena, Catwoman, currently out of costume and wearing a black silk kimono embroidered with red-eyed dragons, pulled her feet from the edge and stood to face him.  
  
The mask that covered the upper half of his face couldn't hide the way he tensed his jaw muscles as he saw the crystal tears pooling in her eyes.   
  
"I'm not sure," he responded in an even tone. His usual mask of stoicism seemed to have slipped, and he looked away from her pale face to try to compose himself. Every time he saw her he had to struggle to overcome the feelings that welled up in him. He fought with himself to keep from embracing her, from forgetting his responsibilities, her flaws, that they were in fact enemies in a heated battle. But her heart-shaped mouth beckoned him, and her serene beauty, her dignity and grace, mocked him. The very nature of her forceful personality, her self-assurance and control, her independence and intelligence, even her sometimes fiery temper, made her his equal. He was in awe of her from the moment they met.  
  
His eyes locked on her lily-white shoulder. The kimono had slipped on one side, revealing the very top of her firm pale breast and the curve of her arm. She knew he was staring, but refused to move. She glared at him, forcing her pain, her sense of betrayal, into a secret spot inside her. The last thing she needed was to break down sobbing in front of her enemy, her lover, like some lost child. Yet the temptation was there. Part of her wanted nothing more then to collapse in his arms, lean her head against his broad chest, and sob until all the darkness inside her was cleansed away. Once she caved, gave in to his ideal of the world, there would be no barriers between them, nothing to keep them apart. But she would have lost herself, and she would hate him for it for the rest of her life. To her, that was worse then a lifetime spent just at arms distance.  
  
The fabled Batman, who lived his life at the edge of reality, suddenly surprised himself. He removed his glove slowly, then, with the back of his calloused hand, he stroked the side of her cheek softly. Her shuddering sigh escaped on its own volition.  
  
"You saved my life tonight. I shouldn't have treated you the way I did," he said in a small voice. His deep tone was rough with emotion. It wasn't the first time they had saved each other, and it wouldn't be the last, but he had lost his temper with her earlier, reacting coldly when she'd tried to reason with him. But he still though he had reason to be upset. He had warned her over and over again to stay away from two-bit cons like Vince the Square. Yet she had partnered with him anyway to steal a priceless statuette from the second richest family in Gotham. He had almost lost his life after making a stupid mistake. Her whip had pulled him out of the fire and into her arms. He had gruffly pushed her to the ground and demanded to know what she was doing there in the first place. They had fought, first with their words, then with their fists, and he had struck her face and her back, and cut her with a batarang as she escaped into the night, cursing him. Of course, she didn't escape without first scratching her claws into his back and neck, slicing through the uniform and into his soft flesh. He felt the dried blood caking between his skin and the rubber.  
  
His own physical pain pained in comparison to how much it hurt to see the huge bruise on her temple where he'd slammed her into a wall. The blue grey mass spread across her cheek and part of her forehead. Unlike many of the enemies he fought, they were both on level playing ground, simple unaltered humans working at the peak of their capacity. They were both nearly physically perfect human specimens. Yet while his body seemed a rock of muscle, her strength was well hidden. Her body was smooth and soft and curving, all plump breasts and wasp waist and round, curving hips. But to touch her was to feel rock-hard muscle just beneath the surface. She was like a stone wrapped in soft, plush velvet, her milky skin smooth to the caress.   
  
"I didn't mean to hurt you," he said, his voice beginning to tremble. They had both hurt each other many times, often much worse then he had this time, but he couldn't remember ever striking her with such red rage boiling inside him. She had lied to him, ignored his pleas, gone behind his back for the sake of simple larceny, and her very presence had distracted him just enough for him to make a near fatal mistake. The idiot two-bit con had managed to set the entire penthouse on fire, and if he hadn't stepped in it might have burnt down half the building. For a simple statuette. All the danger, the destruction, the near loss of life, for a simple crystal statuette. He could have easily given her three times that value of that damn statuette as a present and never even miss it.   
  
To be fair, she had her reasons. The statuette, which was thousand of years old, had been stolen decades ago from a South American temple by the current MacCulkin heir's great uncle. The secret religious order worshiped the ocelot and the jaguar, and the statuette had for years been an integral part of their ceremonies. Without it their religion was falling apart. The latest heir refused to sell it, so she had been contacted by one of the priests. They offered to pay her handsomely if she could return their idol, and include her in their history books as the goddess who returned their representative of the gods.   
  
"Look, I had my own reasons for what happened tonight. I had planned it myself, and it wasn't for my sake. Vince just showed up. I think he'd been staking out the place for a while, just looking for an excuse to pin the whole thing on me," she turned her back to him, looking over the glittering towers pressing into the sky.   
  
"I need that statuette, Batman. It's not for my sake. That statuette is an idol, carved from solid crystal thousands of years ago. An entire religious sect was falling apart because one of the spoiled MacCulkins' stole it while on a hunting expedition. They begged me to help."  
  
Batman sighed and shook his head. "Because you took the law into your own hands, they want to charge you with arson and attempted murder."  
  
"You take the law into your own hands on a nightly basis," she said over her shoulder, eyes blazing. She took a drag off the cigar and blew a smoke ring into the sky.   
  
He went to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She winced as he touched a bruise on her arm. Feeling her tense, feeling the small shudder of suppressed pain, pain he caused, was like a dagger in his heart. He pulled down the other side of her robe to inspect the damage. There was another purpled bruise, and then just below, slicing across her tricep, was a ragged tear. The blood was caked to a hard crust over the wound, but he noticed the stitches. She had done them herself; she always did, without any painkillers to dull her concentration.   
  
He sighed again. "I'm sorry for hurting you."  
  
"No you're not."  
  
"You don't know how much it hurts me when we fight," he said softly.  
  
"Then why do it?" she said, her back to him. "Just let me be. Accept me for who I am, as I accept you."  
  
She suddenly felt naked, totally vulnerable, her kimono halfway down her back as he held his mouth against her neck. She felt his even breathing, his lips, his closed eyes. She could feel his heart beating, the rhythm speeding up with every passing second. Selena turned towards him just in time to see the pain in his eyes, the sorrow.   
  
He held her face up toward his. Her beauty made him ache inside. The large, slightly up tilted eyes loomed large in her delicate face, the smoldering cheekbones just visible as part of her heart-shaped face. Her slender neck drew him, and he kissed it tenderly. She melted slightly in his arms, weakening as he held her tight, and the cigar dropped from her fingers. His mouth moved up her neck to her chin, her cheeks. His mouth trailed, lingering here and there, until it reached her lips. She turned limp in his arms. He held her up as his mouth covered hers, suckling at her bottom lip lightly as her small tongue escaped from between her small even teeth. His tongue slid between his lips to meet hers, their lips entwining as she wrapped her body around his.   
  
Her strength seemed to have fled, and she was like a rag doll as he picked her up, kissing her mouth more passionately as he brought her close to him. He wanted to take her away and keep her safe with him, to take her to his home, his bed, his life, to share everything with her, to give up everything for her, to live for her smile alone, forgetting his life leaping from rooftops and fighting costumed madmen. As he felt her warm body pressed against his, as he felt her kimono slide off her body, his resolve weakened. He had wanted her so long, so bad. He'd loved her so desperately that even when he tried to lose himself in others, in real people with normal lives, even when other women tried to claim his heart, he could only think of her. He demon, his enemy, his desperate love.   
  
His free hand found itself cupping her breast, stroking his thumb over the hardened nipple. She was gasping, rubbing herself against him like a cat. He half imagined he heard her purring as she pressed her pussy against his rubberized suit. His erection was straining against his uniform, begging to be let loose. Her hand cupped his face, her fingers running across his cheek, until they were just at the edge of his mask.  
  
Then they slipped beneath the mask to touch his ear, and he froze, suddenly realizing what he was doing, what he was about to do.   
  
He pushed her away in desperation, dropping her to the ground so hard her head bounced off the pavement. She squealed in surprise, then lay, slightly dazed, for a moment.   
  
Batman, Bruce, the hero who was still a mere mortal human brimming with emotions and desires, was more likely to do what was morally correct, no matter how much it hurt, then what felt right. What felt right to him, to Bruce, to the man who was tired of aching from unrequited love, was to gather up this gorgeous goddess in front of him and worship her the rest of his life. But it wasn't right. She was a criminal, a thief, a villain and his enemy for close to a decade. While the two sides of him, the stoic hero who needed no one but himself, and the hurt orphan who needed love desperately, fought a bitter battle inside his head, his eyes danced up and down her nude form. Her eyes were glazed for a moment, her back half-way arched as her arms hung at her side. Her jet-black hair was disheveled, the tresses falling over her left eye. For a moment she lay completely exposed, her entire body white as milk except for the two dark spots on her breasts. A half-moan escaped her lips. Then, just seconds after she'd been dropped on the concrete, she leapt to her feet, a roundhouse kick sending Batman halfway across the roof.   
  
He slammed into the door of the stairwell, breaking it in two. The splintering wood clawed at his face, scraping the cheek she'd been stroking just moments earlier.  
  
"What the hell is your problem?" Catwoman screamed. She flipped over with the streamlined speed of a gymnast, then kicked him straight up into the air.  
  
"Every couple of months you come by and pull this shit on me," she punched him forward, catching him on the hip as he fell. "I'm sick of this!"  
  
He didn't put up any fight, allowing himself to be her punching bag. He felt he deserved it. She was right. In the last year, his obsession with her had reached a new level. They saw each other more frequently, sometimes just to talk, and he oftenvfound it impossible to keep from touching her, though nothing as intimate as what had happened tonight. Thinking about the feel of her lips and her hands and her body pressed against him, he hit the ledge on the roof. Some of the brick loosened behind him.  
  
"I don't need this," she hissed, giving him a light kick in the side. Her green eyes blazed with fury. "Stay away from me, Bruce. I can't take this anymore. I am so weary of you, of watching you fight yourself."  
  
She turned him around to face her, then climbed on top of him. His breathing was ragged. He felt every inch of her body, memorizing the curve of her body as she pushed against him. Their faces were inches apart, and the vestiges of a smile crossed her face momentarily.  
  
A drop of blood slid into his eyes and he blinked it away.   
  
"I can't be what you need. I refuse to let you put me away in your gilded cage of a life. I want nothing to do with it. Seeing you at one of those stupid parties is almost enough to make me sick. I like my life the way it is, and you don't."  
  
"It's wrong, Selena. And inside you know it."  
  
She chuckled a bit at that. "I have a very strict sense of morality, dear Batman. My own morality. The world is a jungle, a place as savage now as it has been since the beginning of time. I survive, and if by changing a few things here and there I can make a few things better, then I will. But I live only for myself."  
  
"I know this isn't right," he said quietly. "I shouldn't feel like this. It's...a need. I need you. I need to see you, and touch you. I...I love you. But this isn't right."  
  
It was strange to see him struggling with himself. His own strict morality led him to making hard decisions, and sacrifices. She knew how he felt, and what it meant to him, what it cost him. She licked his cheek, tasting the blood and grit. He touched her, his hand finding itself tangled in her black mane as the other one stroked the side of her hips, grabbed her firm ass. She moaned as he pushed her against him, and in seconds they were both grinding against each other. He teeth nipped his lips, his neck, as she pulled free his cowl. He tensed again as she began, and part of him screamed for her to stop. The idea of being exposed, of suddenly being Bruce out in the open, in front of her, made him struggle against her. He flipped her over, pulling her hands away and holding them above her. Breathing in shuddering gasps, he bit her neck, her mewling cries loud in his ears. Slowly his mouth made it's way down her body, nipping at her breasts before attaching to a dark brown nipple. Suckling tenderly, he let his ungloved hand trail down her side, then between her legs to her slippery slit. She gasped, she tensed, her back arching and filling his mouth with her breast. His delicate touch had her gasping, and soon he was feeling her muscles straining as she gasped and tossed in his arms. Clutching at his cape, she cried out as the orgasm swept back and forth over her body.   
  
When her body finally relaxed, he cradled her in his arms and lifted her. He brushed a few kisses over her closed eyelids, then leapt over the side of the building onto the ledge and climbed in through her window. Selena's loft was her soft haven. Pillows and chaise lounges covered most of the floor space and Batman laid her down gently on the closest piece of furniture, a perfectly circular low chair covered in indigo satin. She moaned as he covered her with a soft blanket.   
  
"So now what, you slip out that window and off into the night?"  
  
A skewed smile played across his lips, "What do you suggest?"  
  
She sighed, sitting up to hold his arm, to keep him from escaping just yet. "Just stay a moment. I've had a very strange night." 


End file.
